Reckoning
by wjobsessed
Summary: From 'Person Of Interest' Season 2, 'Dead Reckoning.' Detective Joss Carter reveals what is going through her mind when she meets up with John Reese on the 21st floor, who is wearing a bomb vest with precious little time left on the count down device. One-shot: Reese/Carter.


**Hi all. I know I have not written anything for a long time, and I apologize for that.**

**But I am back with something new! I have been inspired as I rewatch Season 2 of 'Person Of Interest.'**

**I do not have alot of time these days, so if I leave something for you here, you know it's gotta be from something significant!**

**If you are reading this and have not ever watched any episodes of the TV show 'Person Of Interest,' I encourage you to go watch the pilot episode on Amazon Instant Videos, or wherever you watch your shows. This is a well-written show with Jonathan Nolan in charge and JJ Abrams overseeing. Even in the pilot episode there is backstory, and I adore that.**

**This little ficlet is a snapshot in time of 2 of the show's main characters:John Reese(not his real name) and Detective Joss Carter, and it is written from Detective Carter's POV.**

**There are infinite possibilities with these 2 despite their widely different backgrounds, and many people like to 'ship' these two.**

**Below is a particularly emotional scene from a Season 2 episode titled 'Dead Reckoning.' John Reese's partner has locked him into a bomb vest that has a timer counting down to activation(naturally), and there isn't much time left on the clock.**

**My thanks to all the people who have given me feedback on my previous stories. **

**If you feel moved by this one please feel free to comment, it makes my day :)**

**I do not own anything to do with the TV series 'Person Of Interest' or its characters. I just like to borrow them.**

**A shout out to my muse. 3**

**By the way, yes, I am 'Fringe Obsessed' on Facebook, and fringeobsessed1 on Twitter, in case you were not sure.**

Reckoning

Even though I had been through countless stressful moments as a cop, my heart never beat as fast as it was at that moment when the elevator bell sounded and the door opened. I almost fell trying to get through the door.

I looked up and there he was, his form still handsome in his dark suit and white dress shirt, the hard features of his rugged face etched with more pain than I had ever remembered. The look of resignation in his eyes.

"John!" I yelled as I hurried over to him.

"Carter. You need to get off this floor right now." Even now he was all business, but I would have none of it.

"No, we need to get you out of that vest."

"We can't," he retorted quickly, but I barely heard his words, as for a moment my mind went back to all the carnage I had seen such vests do while on my tour of duty years before.

"I saw enough of that in Iraq." I wasn't sure if I actually said the words aloud or not.

Reese turned toward Lionel Fusco with eyes of steel. "Get her out of here," Reese told him firmly.

"John! Please!" I grabbed his arm as I pleaded with him, thinking of all we'd been through together up until this point in time. For an instant I had a vision of him bleeding profusely as I helped him into a car, and of me lying, panting in the alleyway, my chest vibrating from the gunshot. And for a second we were in the back in Donnelley's SUV, Donnelley calling John a 'monster.' Reese's words snapped me back to the present.

"There's no time! You've got too much to lose." It took me a second to realize he was referring to my son, to my teenage son who Reese returned to me intact, from the Russians, because he promised he would. I realized this was his playing card.

"No! John! You are not doing that," I told him, trying to keep my voice from wavering, but I knew he was right even before Fusco said the words out loud.

"Lionel," Reese looked at Fusco and told him sternly.

Fusco looked at me and I knew I had lost my leverage. I was mad, but more so I was scared. I had seen John Reese or whatever his name truly was get out of dozens of bad situations before, but this?

"Carter. He's right." Anger flared as I knew I had lost. I never did lose gracefully, or without a fight.

"Get away from me!" I yelled at Fusco.

"Think of your son!" Fusco said into my face. I stewed inside. There was nothing more to say.

I took a deep breath as I looked into John Reese's eyes, possibly for the last time. Even in this horrible moment there was something about him. There always was. I let my mind wander for a millisecond if we hadn't been in this situation if we could have ever started something between us. I stopped the thought before it went any further.

"John. You don't have to do this." I didn't care if it sounded like I was close to tears. I knew he wouldn't budge, but I had to let him know anyway.

"You know I do," John's voice caught on the first word, " 'cause you'd do the exact same thing." Damn him and his stubborn determination. But, he was right, of course. Resignedly, I let go of his arm. There was nothing left to say.

John Reese stood there looking at Fusco and me. "Thank you," he said sincerely, looking at me, looking as though he wanted to add more. He turned toward Fusco. "Both of you."

John Reese turned away as we started moving back toward the elevator. I had never felt so defeated in my entire life, both professionally and personally. Fusco and I were quiet as we made our way quickly toward the sidewalk in front of the building. Each second seemed like an eternity. Every few of them, one of us would look up toward the 21st floor.

After a bit, Fusco let out a sigh. "Must've been a dud," he said curiously.

I thought about Fusco's words as a giant fireball rang out yards away to our left and we were almost knocked off our feet. All I knew in that moment, was that it was_ not_ John Reese's body that rained all over that Manhattan street. For the first time in hours, I took a full breath.

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